


Acceptance

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Bittersweet, Character Study, Gap Filler, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3499451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a memory he thought he'd forgotten. But when it came back to him, he suddenly realized that it was more than just a memory.</p><p>It was acceptance.</p><p>A reminiscence of Aoba's past, where Mizuki became an evidently important part of his & more importantly, Desire's existence. Takes place after re:code.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acceptance

**Author's Note:**

> A story written for Mizuki's birthday. Happy birthday, Mizuki!
> 
> This fic is a gap-filler for Sly Blue era - where Mizuki first met Aoba and how their relationship brought Aoba (and Desire) to where they are now. Takes place after re:code.
> 
> Self-beta'd & I apologize for any errors and mistakes.

Nothing would change.

Of course nothing would change.

Apart from the sound in his head and _his_ ever so random debut, nothing had changed. Sighing, he sat on his bed, pressing his thumbs against his head and attempting to massage the piercing pain away when Ren jumped onto the bed and placed his legs concernedly on Aoba’s lap.

“Aoba, are you okay?”

“Ah, Ren,” Aoba said, opening his eyes and smiling at his Allmate as he took him into his arms. “I’m fine.”

He was used to this; in fact, he was _supposed_ to be used to this. Having constant headaches should be something normal to him by now; except that it should no longer be normal, not when he’d solved the core of the problem. The fact that he was starting to feel it again evoked a sense of insecurity within him.

“ _Don’t think too much._ ”

Again. Aoba scowled.

“ _It’s just a normal migraine. It’s not me._ ”

“…If you say so.”

Stretching, he laid on his bed, placing his hands behind his head as he stared blankly at his ceiling.

Two months after the Platinum Jail incident, he’d gotten used to _this_ as well. The voice wasn’t too loud to the extent that it’d annoy or disturb him. It was just… _there_ , feeble and almost sounded like a whisper in his head. Sometimes it was barely audible, but at most times, he managed to catch every single word of what _he_ was telling him.

But he knew it was just a pretty deception he was giving himself for assurance. When they’d first achieved a compromise, _his_ voice wasn’t this soft. It was loud and clear and definitely strong. But now… he knew change was inevitable and it wasn’t that he didn’t notice it, he just chose to ignore it, to get used to it, so that he wouldn’t need to deal with the trouble of having to figure out his entire existence the whole time.

But then again, he knew that he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed these changes.

 _He_ certainly did as well.

“Okay, time to go out,” Aoba said as he lifted himself off the bed. There was no use pondering over things that couldn’t be helped. What was bound to happen would happen and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The best he could do now was to make use of what he had – the _bond_ they shared – before _he_ completely slipped off his mind. Literally.

 

***

 

No matter how insecure he would tend to feel, the moment the familiar rush of air attacked his features, he broke into a reflexive smile, hurrying his pace towards the more than familiar place that he had become very much fond of.

No matter how much time has passed, or how much experience they had accumulated throughout the months, years even, he knew that this particular _bond_ would remain the same.

“Yo, Aoba, we’ve been expecting you!”

His smile brightened as soon as he found who he was looking for. It relieved him greatly to know that everything was back to normal and that they were heading towards brighter days.

“I’m on time,” Aoba said as he settled himself on the tall bar stool, watching Mizuki giving him a small grin and before he could continue what he intended to say, he felt a hand ruffling his hair.

“I thought you’d fallen asleep again. You tend to do that a lot recently.”

Yeah, this was something he would never get bored of. Ten years, twenty years, or even thirty years down the road, they’d find themselves crowding around this very counter again, maybe talking about their past and laughing at how pathetic each of them was.

Aoba brushed the hand off his head.

“I’m an adult, Koujaku, stop treating me like a kid.”

“Hm, is that so?”

Aoba turned around, shooting Koujaku a glare as his childhood friend flashed him a mischievous grin. He wanted to say something but Mizuki - he was either senseless about the situation or he’d just decided to ignore it - pushed a cup of cocktail towards Aoba.

“How about proving him wrong?”

“Oi, Mizuki, don’t do that. You know how low his—“

Aoba’s glare shut Koujaku up effectively.

“Well, if anything is to happen, we’re here anyway, right?” Mizuki said with a bitter smile on his face. “Just relax for today. I’ve mixed something new and I want Aoba to give it a try.”

Totally defeated, Koujaku slumped back onto his seat and grabbed his own cup, sipping on the alcohol and giving Aoba frequent sideway looks.

“What’s this?” Aoba asked, examining the color of the liquid while Mizuki crossed his arms, an anticipated look gracing his features.

“It’s called _Sly Blue_.”

Koujaku choked on his drink; Aoba almost dropped his glass.

Mizuki gave them an idiotic laugh as the both of them stared, open-mouthed, at him.

“I just thought the color suits that name,” he said, visibly blushing as he scratched the back of his head. “Anyway, don’t mind that, why not you try it first?”

Adjusting his grasp on the glass, Aoba swallowed down his throat before he lifted it close to his lips while Koujaku sat and stared intensely as Aoba took the first taste of the drink into his mouth.

“I-it’s good…” he mumbled, the sweet taste spread in his mouth before he quickly covered it, urging Koujaku to sprung up of his chair and patted Aoba on the back.

“Are you okay?”

“F-fine, it’s a bit…” Aoba gave out a few coughs before he looked up and gave Mizuki a questioning look. “It’s a bit spicy?” Darting his tongue out, he showed both Mizuki and Koujaku a spot in the center where he assumed that it’d look as scorched as how he’d felt it a few seconds ago. “It burns.”

“That’s the specialty of this drink,” Mizuki leaned forward and supported his chin with his knuckles. “It’s sweet but it also gives you a sense of spiciness once you’re accustomed to the taste.”

Aoba made a disgusted face while Koujaku sat back and sighed loudly.

“Don’t challenge his limit, Mizuki, you know how weak his alcohol tolerance is.”

“But that’s nothing to do with tolerance. It’s just to spice up the taste.”

“Still…”

“I’m fine,” Aoba scowled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he lifted the glass up again. “I just have to get used to it.”

“See?” Mizuki said in a sing-song way, further deepening the scowl in between Koujaku’s eyebrows as he gave out another sigh.

“Don’t expect me to carry you back if you are knocked out later” was all he said before he went back to his own drink.

Aoba merely shrugged at him and went back to tasting the drink. Once he had gotten used to the prick on his tongue, he realized that it was indeed like how Mizuki had said – it tasted good, the extra flavor further enhanced its tang. As he drowned his first glass empty, he even found it to be addicting. Pushing the glass towards Mizuki, he saw the bartender giving him a knowing nod before he refilled his glass.

He couldn’t remember which glass it was that he had started to lose connection to the sounds around him. All he could hear was a warm rush of quiet hums in his ears that sounded oddly like a lullaby; and the fuzzy feeling he got against his chest did nothing but forcing a wave of tingling warmth all over him, as if a bucket of warm water was poured from the top of his head straight down to his toe, warming him from the inside out and drowning him in a sense of surrealism.

He blinked. Once, twice, and on the third blink, everything went black.

“Told you he wouldn’t be able to take it.”

He could vaguely hear Koujaku’s voice on top of him but his head was too heavy and his hands felt as if they were detached from his nervous system.

“But it’s only the fourth cup.”

This time, it was Mizuki’s voice. And this time, he found a sudden swarm of aggressiveness within him and, knowing what had happened, he surrendered, allowing _him_ to take over as he retreated back to sleep.

“Hey.”

“Oh you’re still awa—oh.”

Mizuki’s expression gradually changed from an excited one to one of surprise before he smiled again, this time, kinder than before.

“Another,” Aoba said, pushing the glass towards Mizuki again as he supported his head with one hand.

“Got it,” Mizuki said with a beam as he took the glass away and filled it up again.

“Oi, Aoba…” Koujaku started but he was a second too late when Aoba grasped the newly refilled glass and drown the liquid down his throat in one shot.

“Woah, don’t drink it like that.” Mizuki forcefully grabbed the empty glass out of his hand, instantly earning himself a glare before he found Aoba grasping on his collar and pulling him over so that their faces were only inches apart.

“D-don’t, hic, order me around.”

He didn’t even attempt to pull himself free off Aoba’s grip as he continued smiling at him. It was nostalgic.

_Don’t order me around._

_I’m not your puppet, nor your slave._

_I’ll do whatever I want._

He’d become accustomed with _this_ Aoba ever since the first time he got to know him. When he first met him, he was all wretched, broken, leaning against the wall in the alleyway, _alone_ ; and when he approached him, he’d given him this exact same attitude that had Mizuki stutter a little, before he returned to his senses and gave him this exact smile he was giving him again.

There was something about this Aoba which was so endearing and even with his aggressive, disrespectful attitude, Mizuki still felt that there was something else within him that was a different side of the coin he was outwardly presenting himself now.

And after the Platinum Jail incident, he was proven right.

Another sigh from Koujaku broke the tension between them as Koujaku lurched forward to pull Aoba back to his seat.

“Looks like I’d have to carry you back after all.”

Aoba gave out an angry hum, slumping on the counter as he glared at Mizuki.

“How about _you_ carry me home today?”

Both Koujaku and Mizuki froze at the suggestion.

Noticing a chance, Aoba smirked and raised himself off the counter, inching closer to Mizuki and brought their so faces so close to each other their noses were practically touching.

“What?” he whispered. “Scare you can’t resist me?”

He saw flush blossomed on Mizuki’s cheeks, further deepening his smirk, greatly satisfied with the response he’d expected from Mizuki. He was always like that – so predictable, so easy to grasp and so easy to fluster.

“Aoba…”

Koujaku’s voice was barely audible behind him but he knew that he was watching their every movement; which then, gave him an idea.

Mizuki wasn’t even prepared for anything he was to do later, didn’t even have the time to come out with a response when Aoba leaned _closer_ , their eyes fixed on each other the entire time, the surrounding noises completely ignored and then, in the next second, Aoba pressed his lips against Mizuki’s, causing Mizuki’s eyes to widen as he stared shockingly into Aoba’s eyes.

He didn’t even need to look at Koujaku to know what kind of expression was gracing his features now. It must be at the same level of astonishment as his.

Then, Aoba pulled back, settling himself back onto his seat and acting as if nothing had happened.

Mizuki and Koujaku shot each other a confused look before Koujaku ruffled Aoba on the hair.

“Oi, are you okay?” he asked, but Aoba merely swept his hand away as he shot him a sideway glare.

“I’m better than you.”

Koujaku couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“Geez, since when had he become so bold, huh?” he said, shifting his attention back to Mizuki while Mizuki gave him a grim look.

“Yeah, well..”

Aoba sat up upon hearing the conversation. Turning his stool around to face Koujaku, he smirked and leaned towards Koujaku instead, purposely pulling his face as close as how he did with Mizuki earlier.

“You want one too, Koujaku?” he teased, bringing his face up to play on Koujaku’s bangs before he inched closer again.

Koujaku was momentarily gaping at Aoba before he pushed him away, the hot breath he felt against his face and the soft texture he _almost_ felt against his lips almost luring him into the temptation.

Aoba sat back, visibly amused as he licked his lips. Then, Koujaku shook his head and pressed the back of his hand against Aoba’s forehead.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” Aoba frowned.

“Cut him some slack.” Mizuki came into the rescue.

“He’s a bit warm, maybe he’s dru—“

“I’m not drunk!”

As if trying to prove himself right, Aoba stood up and crossed his arms in front of this chest.

“ _Him_ probably, not _me_.”

Koujaku shot him a confused look and shook his head.

“He’s really—“

“Okay, I get it, Aoba,” Mizuki quickly interrupted Koujaku before he could continue his words, instantly earning himself a suspicious glare. But then, he chose to ignore Koujaku as he walked out from behind the counter and towards Aoba.

“I’ll bring you home, okay?” he said. He could see Koujaku’s suspicions heightened from the corner of his eyes but he didn’t wait for Aoba to respond before he slung a hand over the other’s shoulder. Aoba was about to retort, but the moment Mizuki pulled him closer and brought both of them towards the door, he gave up.

“Take care of my shop for me, Koujaku!”

That was the last thing he said before he dragged both of them out of the shop.

 

***

 

“You’re afraid,” Aoba said after a few minutes of quiet walk. Like he said, he was perfectly conscious, and the one that wasn’t was perhaps sleeping soundly within him now. It still amazed Mizuki on how the same person could react in such a different way but then again, there were a lot of things that he had yet to find out about Aoba so he simply let it slip, only returning Aoba’s accusation with a small smile.

“Afraid of what exactly?”

“Of people finding out about me.”

Aoba’s words stopped Mizuki in his tracks.

Was he afraid? Did he do what he did back in the shop out of his own conscious? If Aoba was right about that, then…

 _Why_?

“You haven’t told Koujaku about it,” Mizuki said, obviously ignoring Aoba’s topic.

“You neither.”

In the next second, Aoba turned, back facing him as he walked a few steps ahead. Mizuki couldn’t see his expression then, but he sounded slightly miserable and it piqued his interest.

“Why?” Aoba asked while Mizuki was trying to find the right way to handle this situation.

“I say the same to you,” Mizuki said, totally taking advantage of the ‘trap’ Aoba was setting for him. “Why didn’t you tell anyone but me?”

He could almost hear a smirk from Aoba. Before he could confirm it, Aoba turned around, now facing him as he continued.

“What do you think?”

Mizuki shrugged as he threw Aoba a bitter smile.

“How would I know?”

Aoba’s response wasn’t one he’d expect. The scowl on his face was the last thing he saw before Aoba turned his back towards him again, walking down the street without any intention to answer Mizuki’s question.

“Hey!”

It had always been like this. Ever since they first knew each other, Mizuki had _always_ been chasing after Aoba’s heels. He sometimes wondered what made him do this – what made him act so persistent towards Aoba when he was just another man – another rebellious teenager – on the street. Perhaps it was the loneliness he’d seen on Aoba’s face when he first met him, or perhaps it was the fact that Aoba had reminded him of himself that had linked this very bond together.

He never knew a lot about Aoba’s background when he first met him. All he knew was that he was always loitering around the streets; sometimes he’d see him sitting in one of the dark alleys, leaning against the wall as he stared into space. When he heard his footsteps, Aoba would turn around and give him an intense yet cautious stare as if he was expecting someone to attack him. Mizuki never asked if he was ever attacked even. Perhaps he was, and perhaps that was what made him to be so guarded in the first place.

Mizuki never asked him about a lot of things.

He didn’t know why himself. He used to tell himself that it wasn’t the right time to probe about so many, let alone personal things when they barely knew each other. But even after they had gotten closer, he never brought himself to ask all the questions he had about this lonely man either.

And sometimes, he wondered if he was waiting for Aoba to tell him himself.

Aoba was more than capable to walk himself home now and Mizuki knew that he was probably just being a nuisance following him like this. But after that quick conversation, Aoba never said any word; he didn’t even give Mizuki another look as he walked silently down the street aimlessly as Mizuki continued following him quietly.

He only stopped when he reached a dark alley where Mizuki remembered it of being the same spot where Aoba had lost most of his memories.

Curious, he looked into the alley, then back at Aoba, who was wearing an expressionless feature as he stared into the alley, into space.

“Aoba?” Mizuki called out. As if that one call acted as a trigger, Aoba walked down the alley and only stopped when he reached the middle of it.

“What’s wrong?” Mizuki asked. The alley was quiet. They were the only persons there.

“Rhyme,” Aoba muttered. He looked up, glancing around before he stared at the ground. “That accident.”

“You didn’t seem to remember that you once played Rhyme after you woke up from the accident, though,” Mizuki reminisced.

“I remember it now,” Aoba corrected. “Although _he_ might not remember the full picture.”

It was still a mystery as to why Aoba was missing portions of his memory, as if that missing portion was stuck somewhere in his brain and that _this_ Aoba had managed to access to it before Aoba could.

“You were against me playing Rhyme,” Aoba smirked at Mizuki from over his shoulders.

“I was,” Mizuki admitted, returning Aoba’s smirk with a smile of his own. “And I also know that you did that on purpose.”

Aoba fell silent, but only for a short while.

“That’s not entirely true.”

“But it’s partly true, right?”

While Aoba considered, Mizuki walked and stood in front of him.

“You were a rebellious kid, Aoba,” Mizuki teased.

“That’s because you were too annoying. You never stopped asking me to join your team,” Aoba retorted.

When Mizuki didn’t respond, Aoba – finally – looked at him but immediately averted his eyes when he saw Mizuki giving him a stare so gentle, accompanied by an equally tender smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“I’ll still ask you again now,” Mizuki said after a momentary pause.

“Why are you so persistent?” Aoba asked, although he knew the answer perfectly well himself.

“Why are you so persistent with Rhyme?” Mizuki asked instead, gracefully avoiding Aoba’s questions and probing on Aoba’s thinking cap.

Aoba didn’t know the answer. When he joined Rhyme, he thought it was fun, it was something new, and it was definitely something that excited him. He wasn’t interested with Rib, wasn’t interested with anything that has to do with physical, almost abusive contacts, let alone being involved with fights. That was why Morphine activities bored him out; and that was also why he decided to return to playing Rhyme, where he could…

His eyes brightened. He couldn’t understand why he couldn’t answer Mizuki in the first place. He knew the answer all along. He was _desire_ , he _desire_ nothing more to _destroy_. It was in his name.

 _He desired to destroy_.

Physical destruction wasn’t enough; a person could heal from that. But being emotionally and mentally _destroyed_ was a whole new story altogether. He wanted to destroy, but that wasn’t all, he wanted to destroy _entirely_. He wanted to earn gratification from the way another person crumble in front of him; he wanted to see how a person would lose their composure and surrender to their utmost desire.

He wanted to see how a person would lose their rationality.

The thought still excited him; he could still feel his veins pumping loudly in his ears when he remembered how tasty victory from a Rhyme match was like. Because at that very moment, every single victory reminded him that he was completely fine being alone, that he didn’t need anyone to survive – he didn’t need his parents, who abandoned him; he didn’t need friends, who ended up using him – and that he was meant to be alone.

At least that was before Mizuki turned up.

When Mizuki first approached him, he thought he was yet another person who had eyed on his strength, who wanted him for nothing but for their own advantage. But Mizuki was different. The first time he rejected his offer to join Dry Juice in an almost aggressive way, he didn’t receive any physical abuse as he’d expected, as how he’d always received when he gave a cold eye to someone else. Mizuki was only slightly taken aback, but in the next second, he smiled and patted him on the shoulder, telling him that probably he needed more time to consider about it and leaving him alone after he’d done with his own assumption.

Aoba didn’t need time to think about it. He was never interested with any Rib teams.

But he was interested with Mizuki; because this particular person kept coming back to him again and again, even though he’d turned him down for the umpteenth time. Sometimes, when he spotted Mizuki’s shadow from a few feet away, he’d immediately turn his heels and walk away, acting as if he didn’t see him. But Mizuki _always_ managed to catch him. Perhaps it was the color of his hair that had stood out so magnificently; or perhaps it was – like Mizuki had put it – the vibe he gave out that had often captured Mizuki’s attention.

It was like dealing with a bond so strong it couldn’t be broken no matter how hard he tried.

Mizuki told him that he had a unique vibe, that he reminded him of himself. But Aoba saw nothing of himself in Mizuki. Mizuki was strong, he was always _out there_ – he was the head of a Rib team, someone everyone depended on.

Aoba was a no one – he was always alone, always dealing with his own business; he was someone everyone wanted to avoid.

He was _nothing_ like what Mizuki had told him.

Perhaps there was something that Mizuki saw in him that he couldn’t see. But soon, he realized that it was the same with Mizuki after all – that there was something in Mizuki that he never knew, not until he finally opened up slightly to him that he saw that almost unnoticeable hint of weakness that he’d never expected from Mizuki.

 

“I don’t have a home.”

He remembered telling Mizuki that, few months after their first encounter.

“Is that the reason why you’re always hanging around outside?” Mizuki asked.

He didn’t answer.

“You have a home,” he said after a while. The noise in Black Needle was loud, but still tolerable.

“Dry Juice is my family,” Mizuki confessed. “If you could call it a home.”

He almost thought Mizuki had seen through him and was serious about wanting him to be part of his ‘family’, his _home_.

Aoba hummed quietly, visibly considering of something before he grasped onto the glass of juice Mizuki had prepared for him as he drown it down in one gulp.

“Is there any open vacancy left?” he asked at long last. Mizuki froze. He looked startlingly at Aoba before he broke into a huge grin.

“Dry Juice’s door is always open.”

 

That was how it was. Aoba never promised Mizuki that he would join his team. He was never interested in Rib. But he was interested with Mizuki. He was intrigued by his persistence. No one had treated him like how Mizuki treated him before. Part of him was curious; he wanted to know exactly what this man wanted from him.

So he decided to dive into this very alluring trap he was presented with.

He wanted to know how a man could be so strong yet so optimistic at most times; he wanted to know what was so special about this whole Rib and family thing. Because he’d never felt it before; if there was even a tiny ray of hope, he wanted to try it out.

And that was when he first noticed that Mizuki wasn’t as how he thought he was.

The first time he saw fear on Mizuki’s face was when he dropped by Mizuki’s house, when Mizuki picked up a call and when he saw his expression gradually changed. He was left alone then. Mizuki had told him not to follow him, and surprisingly, he obeyed. It was against his usual way of doing things. But silently, he knew that it was a different Mizuki he’d saw that had caused a change of action in him.

He knew Mizuki was the person – the head of Dry Juice – that everyone depended on; but he never noticed that Mizuki also needed someone to depend on.

On the same night when he’d received the phone call, _he_ became the person Mizuki depended on. He wasn’t sure if it was out of convenience or if it was out of trust but when Mizuki leaned his head against his shoulder, hiding his head from view, and when he heard quiet sobs from the Dry Juice leader, he realized that Mizuki was also another human with emotions, who also crumbled like everyone else does, and like everyone else, there was also a limit to how strong a person could be. When he patted Mizuki on his head, still amused at how their positions had drastically changed in just a few hours’ time, he realized that perhaps this was what Mizuki had seen in him.

Because no matter how strong _he_ was, there were also times when he would break down; times when he would miss his parents, times when he would regret the decisions he made and there were also times when he would miss _home_.

“I need to go home,” he had said few days after Mizuki’s breakdown.

Mizuki stared surprisingly at him.

“You told me you didn’t have a home.”

“I have a grandmother,” Aoba confessed, averting Mizuki’s eyes. “If you could call that a home.”

He was expecting Mizuki to reprimand him for lying to him. But instead, Mizuki gave him a bright smile, ruffling him on the hair as he said,

“That’s good. But wait, does that mean you ran away from home?”

Aoba nodded quietly. Truth was, he didn’t know how to face his grandmother, especially when he knew that he’d disappointed her greatly with how obsessively involved he was with Rhyme.

“Go home, Aoba,” Mizuki said. When Aoba turned to look at him, he almost thought that the breakdown he’d witnessed from Mizuki the other day was an illusion after all. Because the smile Mizuki was giving him was so strong yet so gentle that he couldn’t help but gape. “Go back to where you belong.”

He almost wanted to tell Mizuki that he belonged here – where he was trusted and where he was accepted as who he was. But he couldn’t lie to himself. He missed home. He was acting on impulse because of the loss of his parents. He was momentarily conquered by the _desire_ within him that had triggered the intense impulse out of him.

But still, there was something about Mizuki that had evoked another set of emotions out of him; or rather, awakening the _rationality_ within him that he had almost forgotten.

He nodded at long last.

“I will.”

That was the last thing he remembered before he decided to play Rhyme for one last time, before he was met with that accident that took away most of his memories.

Including most of his memories with Mizuki.

 

He couldn’t remember how long they had been standing in that alley, his head occupied by memories he held so very closely to his heart.

He couldn’t remember when he started regaining his memories either. Reason may not have the complete set yet but _he_ had it. He hadn’t regained all of his memories he’d lost during his teen years, but he’d regained how he felt about it and nothing else mattered anymore.

“Is there any open vacancy in Dry Juice?” he asked teasingly as he smiled when he saw Mizuki giving him the exact same expression back when he’d asked him the exact same question.

“What are you talking about?” Mizuki said with a huge grin on his face. “You have a home now.”

He wanted to tell Mizuki that he still thought that Mizuki was his best home. Perhaps not for Aoba, but for him – for _desire_ – Mizuki was the person who’d trusted him and accepted him for who he was. Even when he was once rebellious, when he was a mix of desire and reason, to the point when he was abandoned by Reason, and until now, when he was once again, a mix of both – Mizuki had never seen him any different from who he was. When Mizuki regarded him as ‘Aoba’, he knew that he could trust him to regard him sincerely as who he was.

As who he always wanted to be – the real Aoba who was initially him who he had come to forget across time.

“I could use two homes,” Aoba teased again. When Mizuki gave out a loud laugh, he followed, laughing at how stupid he once was, how lost he once was.

If not because of Mizuki, he’d probably still stuck in the abyss of self-indulgence; if not because of Reason, he’d continue losing the true purpose of his existence.

“Thank you.”

He wanted to tell both of them that.

“What’s this for?” Mizuki asked.

It took a while for him to answer, but when he did, he could feel even his own sincerity in his voice, almost triggering a sense of surrealism out of him, because he never knew that he could sound this way.

“For everything.”

Perhaps Mizuki had noticed that the appreciation he’d just expressed was aimed at both him and Reason, who was still deep asleep within him. Because right after he’d said that, he pulled him into a hug, which Aoba returned.

“Thanks to you too, Aoba.”

This time, yet again, when Mizuki called him by his name, he knew that he was sincerely regarding him as who he was – as Aoba – like how he always did.

“Say…”

The last time he did it, he regarded it as an ‘accident’, but he knew it wasn’t; Mizuki knew it as well. But one thing about Mizuki was that he gave them too much freedom that had often backfired on him. This time though, it was different.

Like the last time, Mizuki didn’t even have the time to respond when Aoba slung his arm around his neck and pulled him closer before he pushed his lips against Mizuki’s. It wasn’t soft and quick like the last as well. This time, it lingered deeper, long enough for Mizuki to feel the warmth against his skin before Aoba released him with a quick lick on his lips.

They could call it whatever they wanted, they could even call it another accident. As Aoba laughed at the idiotic expression Mizuki was giving him again, he suddenly felt this huge sense of relief within him that drew a smile out of him – a smile that had Mizuki gape in awe because it reminded him so much of Aoba that he was thrown into a temporary sense of confusion.

Aoba had nothing to fear anymore, no matter how ridiculous his actions tended to be, because he knew that Mizuki would always accept him for who he was no matter how absurd the truth about his whole existence could be. And one day, he’d gain enough courage to tell people around them the truth, because he’d gained that very confidence from Mizuki.

That was the only thing he’d ever wished for before he would completely become one with Aoba. And this time, he knew that he’d leave matters to ‘Aoba’’s hands without regret, for he was finally accepted by the person who mattered to him the most.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely love Aoba & Mizuki's dynamic. I'd love to explore more of their relationship and potential if time allows. I hope you enjoyed this very much self-indulgent story c:


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